by Sandra Owens
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She forced herself to look away and turned the plane toward home, doing her best to convince herself that wasn’t disappointment she saw in his eyes. There was no way a man like him would give much thought to a refusal from someone like her. He probably had seen her as an easy conquest, one quickly forgotten as soon as he got in his car and drove away.
So why not, Charlie? Bet the man would be crazypants fan . . . tas . . . tic in bed.
Charlie ignored—or did her best to—the voice in her head. She would have argued with it if she’d had a leg to stand on, but as she could only agree with it, she got mad.
When she taxied up to the FBO, David came out and hand signaled the Cessna into its parking space. He gave a careless wave and disappeared back inside when she cut the ignition. Charlie turned to tell Ryan good-bye, fully intending to send him on his way.
Their eyes locked, and before she could say a word, he leaned over and kissed her.
CHAPTER FIVE
As her mouth softened against his, Ryan closed his eyes, savoring the taste of her. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Not after she’d given every sign that she wanted nothing to do with him. But she’d turned to him, and he’d been sure she intended to send him away without ever seeing him again.
There had been such joy in her eyes when they’d been in the air. He hadn’t seen that before they’d flown, so he could only chalk it up to how piloting a plane affected her. She’d looked at him with those damn blue-gray eyes and he hadn’t been able to resist.
A part of him that he’d thought dead the past year had stirred, seen her passion, and wanted to take it into himself. The kiss surprised him as much as it seemed to surprise her. But he couldn’t find it in him to care, especially when she kissed him back. She hadn’t at first. Her lips had been firm and unyielding, but then . . . Christ, then, her mouth had softened and she’d leaned into him. Her fingers tentatively touched his cheek, feeling like a caress as gentle as a summer breeze.
The way she responded was almost as if she had tender feelings for him. That wasn’t what he wanted, or hadn’t thought he wanted. All he’d sought from her was a few good times. Something that would relieve the need to be with a woman. Any woman.
He supposed the joke was on him because with this kiss, only Charlie would do. Not forever, but for as long as it suited them both. Breaking away, he leaned his forehead against hers and listened for a moment to her breathing, heavier than usual. But then, so was his.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
She pulled away and turned to stare out the pilot’s side window. “I don’t know if that’s wise.”
“Since when are we going for wise, Charlie?” He grabbed her clipboard and pen. After writing his cell number at the top of the sheet, he handed it back to her. “If you change your mind, call me.”
Walking away without knowing if he’d ever hear from her was the hardest thing he had done in a while. But he managed it. As he drove home to change for work, he tried to figure out what it was about Charlene Morgan that called to something deep inside him. Yes, she was pretty, but not the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Yes, he loved the way her pale blonde hair curled itself around her head, and yes, he loved those opal-colored eyes of hers. None of those things were why, though.
As hard as he tried to identify what it was about her that had kept her in his mind since the night they’d met, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Whatever it was that attracted him to her was elusive, but it was there. That much he did know.
Ryan pulled into his parking space, parked his car, then jogged up the sidewalk. Entering his apartment, Mr. Bunny hopped up to him as if happy he was home. He leaned down and scratched the fuzzball under his chin. What did it say about him that he was beginning to like having a silly rabbit for company?
Two days had passed with no word from his favorite pilot. Ryan hung up the phone after talking to his contact in Helsinki and jotted down some notes from the conversation. After getting the important points on paper, his mind veered right back to Charlie. He didn’t like that a tiny cherub who obviously never intended to call kept invading his thoughts. Other than her name, two kisses that had rocked his world, and that she was a pilot, he knew nothing about her.
Actually, he did know one other thing. She was as different from Kathleen as night was from day. Where his wife had been tall, Charlie was a tiny thing. Their hair was different; one had long auburn hair, the other a blonde cap of curls. Kathleen had been sweet and soft. He wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by soft, but he did know whatever it was, Charlie wasn’t it. Strangely, that turned him on.
Comparing the two was a ridiculous exercise, though, and he gave a grunt of annoyance. Thinking of his wife only caused pain, and thinking of Charlie only served to irritate him since she had obviously dismissed him from her life.
When Jake Buchanan and Jamie Turner appeared at his door, each attempting to enter first, playing a game of who could push the other out of the way, Ryan welcomed the intrusion. He sat back and watched them, trying not to laugh.
“Dumb shits,” he said. It wasn’t lost on him that his friends were intentionally acting like buffoons in an attempt to amuse him. He knew they were worried about him, and knew he wasn’t the happy Doc they remembered.
Both thought it was the death of Kathleen that had changed him, and of course it had been. How could it not, when one lost the love of his life? The part that he didn’t seem to be able to get over, though, he would never tell them. But he did his best to act like the man he used to be, or as much as he could remember of that man anyway.
“You two should take your act on the road,” he said, giving a real laugh when Jamie did that special little trick of his and wrapped a leg around Jake’s, putting him stomach down on the floor.
“Son of a bitch,” Jake grumbled. “You’ll pay for that.” Seconds later, the two were wrestling on the floor of Ryan’s office. When the boss appeared and leaned against the doorframe, Ryan wondered how he would react to the ruckus. He only knew Kincaid as a SEAL commander; he hadn’t worked at K2 long enough to know what the man was like away from the rules and regulations of the military.
Kincaid looked at Ryan and rolled his eyes. “Fucking kindergarteners. When those two clowns finish their playtime, drag their asses to the war room. We just got some new intel.”
Interesting, Ryan thought. Unless he missed his guess, Kincaid would have liked nothing more than to join in the fun. Maybe working at K2 might end up being like old times. One of the team’s favorite pastimes to burn off tension had been to beat the shit out of each other. They had set up a ring with mats, and whenever they were at their base camp, they would have matches. Their commander had always pretended not to notice, and once, after a particularly frustrating op, Kincaid had even stepped into the ring and taken on two of them at once, coming out on top.
“Children, you heard the boss—time to go to work.” Somewhat cheered by being back with his teammates, Ryan walked with his friends to the war room.
“You’re set to go a week from today,” Kincaid said without preamble when they entered.
Ryan nodded and took a seat across from the boss. “Things are getting dicey in that neck of the woods, so the sooner the better.”
“That’s why we moved up the date. No telling what Putin might get up to. Best we get the family out ASAP.”
Kincaid slid a glossy photo across the table, and Ryan gave a low whistle. “You get us one of these?” The picture was of a boat, one of the latest toys in the SEALs’ arsenal. The Sealion was a stealth watercraft, low slung, gunmetal gray, and sexy as hell. He glanced up at the boss. “How did you get your hands on it?”
“Let’s just say that I’d have to kill you if I told you.”
Jake grabbed the photo. “I can’t believe we get to play with one of these.”
“You’ll have one more member added to your team,” Kincaid said. “He comes with the boat.”
“He got a name?” Ryan asked. An active SEAL on their mission, along with a watercraft that had only been whispered about? The higher-ups wanted their target bad.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
There was amusement in Kincaid’s eyes, which immediately put Ryan on alert. Was it someone they already knew? He tried to think of who it could be but came up blank. The Sealion had only been a rumor, and there hadn’t been a hint of a name or names associated with it.
Jake looked up at the boss. “Would you care to share that name?”
“Nope.”
“I hate surprises,” Jake muttered.
“I’m aware of that.” Kincaid met Ryan’s gaze and smirked.
The boss was toying with them and loving every minute.
They spent another hour ironing out details, deciding where off the Finnish coast they’d put the Sealion into the water, and then where they would enter Russia.
Ryan was glad to get back to doing what he knew best. The past year, he had felt as if he’d been on some kind of autopilot, barely showing up for each day. The adrenaline of something to look forward to was welcome. As he brought the others up to speed with what their Helsinki contact had said, he realized his right leg was bouncing, something it hadn’t done since he had learned Kathleen had died.
He was back.
Charlie pressed the last key of Ryan’s phone number on her cell, then hit Cancel. He was heartbreak personified, and if she were smart, she would scrub him from her mind. The problem was that her efficiency apartment was closing in on her, and she really, really needed to get out, but she couldn’t think of anyone else to call.
She’d dedicated all her time and resources to learning to be an aerobatic pilot, and had relegated herself to a life of doing without. No nice place to live, no friends, no nothing. Well, except for her Corvette, and because it was a bank repo, she’d practically stolen it. Also, she’d bought it right after Aaron had broken up with her, and she considered the rash decision to buy the flashy car akin to eating a five-gallon container of salted caramel chocolate ice cream when depressed. Just a more expensive pity party, that was all.
To hell with it, she would call him. She needed to get out and start having some kind of life outside of flying. Snatching up the phone from where she’d tossed it on the counter, she dialed Ryan’s number again and refused to let her finger hit the Cancel button.
“O’Connor,” he answered, sounding wary.
Well, she’d let two days pass since he’d given her his number, nor would she be in his caller ID. Guess he had reason to think she was a telemarketer or whatever. She wasn’t sure what to say. Why hadn’t she practiced something? Honestly, she wasn’t even sure why she was calling him. The last thing she needed was a super-duper hot guy complicating her life.
“Hello? If this is a breather, you should know you aren’t breathing heavily enough to turn me on. You have three seconds to change my mind. One, two, three. Okay, time’s up. Bye.”
The man was funny, and she laughed.
“Cherub?”
Sheesh, he knew her laugh? “Yeah.” That was all she could think to say.
“Give me an address, and I’ll come pick you up and take you to dinner,” he said.
Wow, maybe she didn’t need to talk. She kind of liked that. “No, I’ll meet you. How does Dockside sound? Say in an hour?”
That way, she could leave whenever she wanted. He sounded disappointed but agreed. Hanging up, she raced to her small closet and tore through it, looking for something that wasn’t a flight suit, jeans, or a T-shirt. She should’ve gone shopping before calling him. Would he remember the dress she’d worn the night they met? Probably not, but what if he was observant?
At the very back of her closet, she found a pair of white slacks and a blue silk blouse she had forgotten about, still with the tags on them. She had bought the outfit in anticipation of a celebratory one-year anniversary dinner with Aaron, but since that little event hadn’t occurred, she’d never worn the clothes.
“Perfect,” she said, and laid the slacks and blouse on the bed. Since the pants were white, that meant she’d have to wear nude panties. One quirk she owned up to was her love of sexy underwear. So what if no one saw what she had on under her clothes, she knew what was there. As soon as she’d lost weight, she had bought a supply of matching lacy panties and bras. Not that Ryan was going to see them anytime soon. At least, she didn’t think so. The one night she’d been willing, he had walked away. He had some work to do to get her out of her sexy panties this time around.
“Whoa, Charlie, getting ahead of yourself.” Who knew if he even wanted in her panties? After a quick shower and leg and underarm shave, she toweled off, glad she’d washed her hair the night before and didn’t have to mess with blow-drying it. Her natural curls never frizzed—something she often thanked her mother for passing on to her—and all her hair needed was a quick brushing.
Which body lotion? She uncapped both of the ones in her cabinet and sniffed the vanilla chai scented one. “Nice, but too sweet.” She didn’t want to be sweet for Ryan, not on this particular night. She brought the second bottle up to her nose and inhaled. Not bad. She read the label. A day at the beach sunshine fresh was in script across the bottom. It did have a fresh, sunshiny smell.
Thirty minutes later, she stood in front of the mirror and assessed her sunshine-fresh-smelling self. Something was missing, but she couldn’t figure out what. Maybe she should use more makeup. All she’d put on was a little eye shadow, mascara, blush, and lipstick. No, even that was more than she usually wore. What about jewelry? Other than the delicate silver cross her mother had given her on her thirteenth birthday, she rarely wore anything else. Earrings! The blue-beaded ones in her jewelry box would be perfect with the blouse.
Just the right touch, she decided, eyeing the earrings dangling from her ears. Time to go meet Mr. Hot Guy, and she absolutely wouldn’t be disappointed when nothing came of it. The drive to Dockside only took fifteen minutes, and she pulled into the parking lot fifty-five minutes after agreeing to meet Ryan. She put her hand on the door handle, then stopped, grabbed her purse, and fished around for her lipstick. Sheesh, she was acting like a teenager on her first date. Even so, she applied another layer of color on her lips.
As she stepped around puddles left by an earlier rain, she noticed her toes, the nails clearly visible because of the white sandals she wore. Dang, she should have painted them. Not used to acting girly, it hadn’t occurred to her.
“Enough, Charlie,” she grumbled. She was what she was, and if he didn’t like that, to hell with him. Satisfied she’d gotten her head on straight, she entered Dockside. The foyer was crowded, and why hadn’t she thought of how popular the place was when she picked it? Not seeing Ryan among the people waiting for a table, she approached the hostess, thinking to add her name to the wait list.
“I have us a table, cherub.”
Charlie almost jumped out of her skin, then she about melted as Ryan’s warm breath wafted over the back of her neck. She turned and lifted her head, then lifted it some more. “Hi.”
Those beautifully strange eyes of his crinkled at the corners. “Hi back.”
He slipped his hand around hers and started walking. Unable to do anything else for more than one reason—like because he was big and strong, and because she suddenly wanted her hand in his—she meekly followed along. Which was damned strange. Charlie didn’t do meek for anyone. Oh, she once had, but that had changed the day she found the courage to get on a witness stand and send her stepfather to prison. But she wasn’t going there, not while her hand was engulfed by the hottest man she’d ever known.
“I got us a table on the deck. Thought you’d like that.”
Okay, give Hot Guy bonus points. How he’d gotten them a table at the railing, looking out over the gulf when so many people were waiting, she didn’t know. Apparently, he was a magic man. Their only two kisses had certainly been magic. Charlie wondered if she was so far out of
her element that she’d somehow entered the stratosphere.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, sounding as if he really meant it.
“I tried not to call you,” she answered, then bit down on her bottom lip, sorry she’d admitted that much.
Green eyes with streaks of orange in the irises zeroed in on hers. He smiled at her oh so slowly. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but I checked my messages probably a hundred times hoping to see one from you.”
Oh. Oh, well then. Either he really had thought of her, or he was like one of those basket cobras that gently swayed to the soft tune of a flute, charmed the daylights out of you, then bit you. Warning bells went off in her head, and she decided she’d best keep her guard up. More than likely, Hot Guy was a player—definitely not what she wanted in a man, even short-term.
“Well, here I am,” she said, then stared out over the water so she wouldn’t drown in the eyes focused on her with an intensity she had never experienced from any man.
The reflection of the moon shimmered over the gulf, and out of nowhere she wished she were alone in her plane, just her up there in the night sky. Why hadn’t she thought of doing that before she’d dialed his number?
She didn’t belong anywhere near the man sitting across the table. He was too much. Too much man, too much for her to ever handle. What had she been thinking?
She stood. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” Without waiting for a response, she fled.
CHAPTER SIX
What the hell? Ryan threw a twenty on the table, then followed his little cherub. “We have an emergency,” he said to their waitress as he passed her. With his long strides, it was easy to catch up with Charlie.
“Where we going?” he asked, matching his pace to hers. She stumbled, and he clasped her elbow.
“Stop sneaking up on me like that.” She pulled her elbow away, giving him a disgruntled glare. “We’re not going anywhere.”
